


Of Leadership and Loneliness

by Amlovelies



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, F/M, Not Beta Read, Solavellan Hell, Trespasser, an examination of lavellan's emotions during trespasser, and mine too, dorian is her favorite, heavy focus on lavellan's thoughts and feelings, not a direct retelling, pretty canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:35:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23906278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amlovelies/pseuds/Amlovelies
Summary: Two years after the fall of Corypheus, Anyara Lavellan is overwhelmed with a feeling of foreboding. As the Exalted Council begins she finds her fears warrented when the corpse of a Qunari warrior is found at the palace of Halamshiral.An examination of Lavellan's emotion state during Trespasser because I couldn't stop thinking about it after finishing the game.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor & Dorian Pavus, Female Inquisitor & Varric Tethras, Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age)
Kudos: 6





	Of Leadership and Loneliness

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't do much revision to this, because otherwise I would lose my courage to post it. Hope everything flows okay and typos are minimal.

In the weeks leading up to the Exhalated Council a sense of foreboding had been growing in the back of her mind. At first it was a feeling of uneasiness upon waking as her brain sought to find meaning in the fragments of half remembered dreams. Hairs raised on the back of her neck as she navigated the stairs to her chambers. The whispers of the Vir’Abelasan became more active, a dull buzz at the bottom of her brain setting her teeth and nerves on edge. The anchor was more active. Licks of pain traveled from her marked hands up her arm and settled in her bones. Anyara could remember the early days before the breach had been closed. She had been so sure that the anchor would kill her. Those fears had disappeared as the months and then the years passed, but something had changed. The pain was growing worse. Even if it didn’t kill her, Anyara wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep going. Josie’s obvious nerves did little to help. This council would determine the future of the Inquisition, her future. It was a startling thought. For better or for worse Skyhold had become her home. There were days when she felt consumed by the role of inquisitor. The person she had been before felt harder and harder to remember. There was no one left who knew her as Deshanna’s first. Most of her inner circle had scattered to the four corners of Thedas. They wrote and stayed in contact, but it wasn’t the same. With a handful of exceptions there were few left in Skyhold that had known her as anything other that the Inquisitor. Somedays she wasn’t sure if there was anything more to her than the Inquisitor. The role consumed her and made her one of the most powerful people in Thedas. One the night before they left for Halamshiral, she had stood on her balcony and stared out at the Frostbacks. Mulling a glass of wine, she allowed herself a guilty moment to imagine a life free of her responsibilities to the Inquisition. If the council ruled for them to disband, she would no longer have to be the Inquisitor. She could be Anyara again. She could be free. With a sigh, she pushed the thought from her mind. There was no other life waiting for her out there. She would never be free from the Inquisition. She would never be free from the anchor.  
Anyara felt a grim sense of satisfaction when she looked down at the corpse of the Qunari warrior. It meant trouble, but it also meant she could blame her nerves on recognizance rather than the sneaking suspicion that maybe she was just losing her mind.  
It was like old times again. Almost. With Varric, Dorian, and Thom beside her the years fell away. She had missed this; she had missed them especially Dorian. There were so many things she wished to speak with him about before the council ended. For all the power and wealth being Inquisitor had brought her his friendship was probably what she valued the most.  
It was hard to focus as they engaged the Qunari in the ruins. Their search was full of revelations and troubling new information. Unstable with new magic, the anchor itched in her palm as the voices of the well scratched at her ears. She wished she had time to listen and try to untangle their whispers. This was the first confirmation she had ever received of Solas’s story about the vallaslin. Memories of that faithful night threatened to escape from the careful lock she had placed them behind years ago. She fought to focus on the fight, but her thoughts raced through her trouble mind. It was possible Solas had found this place, or maybe just dreams about it. She wished he was here. He could help her make sense of all of this.  
A yell startled interrupted her casting and she felt a barrier drop around her only moments before a Qunari spear crashed against it. If Dorian had not cast when he had she would have been impaled. Knowing how close she had come to dying gave her the edge she needed to focus on her enemies and make it through the fight.  
“Have you been resting on you laurels, Inquisitor?” Dorian teased his tone light, but she could see the concern in his eyes. She would be sure to find him at her door when this ended with questions.  
The anchor pulsed and hummed distracting her further. She breathed deeply trying to calm herself. She had faced worse that his, so why did today feel so dire?  
Unbidden a soft memory arose of long fingers brushing over the anchor’s surface and soothing words, “it will respond to your emotions just like your magic da’len. Breath deep and ground yourself. It should help with the pain when I am not there to help you.”  
She followed the old advice closing her eyes and breathing in deeply once, twice, three times. The humming and vibrating of her body slowed and her thoughts reordered. She felt calmer and more able to face whatever lay ahead.  
Opening her eyes, she found Varric looking up at her, “decided to rejoin us?” His tone was his usual jovial cadence, but his brow was furrowed and his lips tight.  
Looking at the three men, Anyara could feel their scrutiny and concern. “Yes. I’m sorry. I just got a little overwhelmed.” Two years ago, she would have lied. Unable to show vulnerability she had tried so hard to be a good leader. Back then she had believed she had to always appear strong. capable, unbreakable. “Let’s press on.”  
The next room they entered was dominated by a giant stone wolf. Its presence was at once comforting and nerve-wracking. She remembered the statues that would lie just outside the encampments. She remembered a time when seeing him meant she was almost home, but now she had strayed so far. She was in his domain and questioning so many things she had always been told. Staring up at the face of massive statue Anyara had to suppress a shiver. At the edges of her mind memories circled her like a pack of wolves: the dancing shadows cast by a childhood campfire as Deshanna wove warning tales of the dread wolf, the howls of the wolves who lead her away from the ruins of Have their cries piercing the snowy darkness and leading her into the arms of her comrades, the stark fierce shapes of the wolves adoring the walls of the rotunda, and finally the jaw bone of a wolf turned over and over in her fingers while sweet words whispered in her ears. The specters of her past circled her and for a fearful moment she wondered if this was where it was always leading. In the end would she be nothing more than prey in the wolf’s jaws?  
“Pretty big statue,” Varric remarked. “Gotta wonder if this Fen’Harel is overcompensating for something”  
A loud laugh tore out of her and she slapped a palm over her mouth to stifle the sound. It felt reckless to laugh at the wolf in his own den. Reckless, but also good. It was enough to shake her out of her moribund thoughts and back to the task at hand.  
“Well now, what do we have here?” She turned to Dorian’s voice her eyes dancing over the frescoed walls.  
“Oh,” a soft sound escaped her lips as she gazed at the image. A wolf mantled man removing the vallaslin from an elf.  
Dorian moved her side and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. In a low voice meant for her alone he whispered, “perhaps we’ve discovered the source of some ancient truths.”  
The rest of their time in the ruins based in a blur. Too many things had been revealed in too short a time, and she wasn’t sure she could reconcile it all. Then there were the memories of Solas. It had been a long time since she had thought of him. The Inquisitor did not have time to be lost in painful memories and unanswered questions. It was as he himself had said, he was a distraction. She had done her best to bury those memories under her duties, but they had swelled through the little cracks the ruins had caused. There were answers to be found, both for her people and for herself, but as always, the needs of Thedas would come first. After this crisis based there would be time to examine what she had found here. There would be time to unravel her painful memories and see if any closure could be found, but not now. Now duty called.  
It was a quick trip back to Halamshiral to discuss options and then they were back in the crossroads. This time the eluvian left them in the deep roads. More mysteries surrounded them and Anyara was overwhelmed once again by how much history had been lost. She had never heard any stories of the elvhen in the deep roads, yet here was the evidence. And then it was all lost under the rising waters and falling stones. It felt like a betrayal of her people to allow it all to disappear once again. Just one sin of many she had committed against her Dalish brothers and sisters. 

After returning to Halamshiral Anyara was unsurprised to find Dorian waiting at her quarters for her to return from meeting with her advisors and the Divine.  
As soon as the latch clicked closed on the door he began, “interesting art in the ruins today.” He examined the nails of his hands and avoided making eye contact with her.  
“You know there was a time when you’d warm me up with a bottle of wine before getting to the hear of things.” Anyara stalled.  
“Ah yes, back in the good old days.” He smiled before producing a bottle. “I thought you might protest.”  
It was opened and glasses filled. They each took a deep sip. There was something relaxing in the ritual of it all. Dorian and her alone with wine to soften the edges and loosen their tongues.  
Anyara sighed and rubbed the space between her eyes. “Something big is happening here, Dorian. I can’t explain it, but it feels like its all been leading to this.”  
Dorian raised an eye brow and steepled his fingers, “so what dear old Corypheus was just and appetizer. Are we now on to the main course?”  
“I keep wracking my brain trying to figure out why the Qunari think I’m an agent of Fen’Harel. Why do they think we’re involved? The fact that I’m Dalish might be enough for that templar and the other viddathari, but I doubt that leadership would base a decision on such weak evidence. There has to be a missing piece.”  
“It could be propaganda. You’ve been playing the game long enough to know that evidence doesn’t always matter if it gets them what they want.”  
Anyara took another sip of wine and let her gaze wander eyes unfocused. “I could never figure out what he left for, but I knew there had to be an outside force. He said there were considerations.”  
Dorian paused for a moment as he pieced together the things Anyara wasn’t ready to say out loud yet. “Solas. You think Solas is involved with Fen’Harel?”  
“Don’t look at me that way, Dorian. I’m not some lovesick girl pining for her missing lover. You saw the mural. Solas said he learned about the vallaslin from the fade, but what if that’s not it? It explains so many things Dorian. Solas has to be the link.” Anyara fought to keep her tone neutral, fought to not let the implications overwhelm her. Solas had deceived her. He had lied to her. He had used her.  
“Remember what we had was real.” Dorian recalled Solas’s last words to Anyara. “I’m not saying you’re right dear, but it does certainly give a different context to his farewell. What if you are right and Solas is involved in all this? How will you react? It’s harder that you can believe to turn against someone who you care about.” Shadows of Redcliffe and Alexius darkened Dorian’s face.  
“Do you think I’ll throw myself into his arms?” she scoffed offended.  
“Do you think you won’t?” he asked softly.  
She stood up and paced across the floor to stare out the window. “Do you think I’m that weak, Dorian? I’ve killed dragons, turned back time, and defeated an ancient magister.”  
“Perish the thought, pet. Weak is never a word one could use to describe the fabled Herald of Andraste. It’s just more complicated. Your theory that Solas was involved with this wolf man is sound, but we have no way of knowing if he’s involved with what’s happening now, or what changes he’s gone through in the last two years.  
“I know that. I know better than to hope for a happy ending for me.” Involuntarily she clenched her marked hand into a fist. It was on the tip of her tongue to confess her belief that she was dying. To tell him that there was only a little time left for her anyway, but saying it out loud would make it real.  
She remembered back to the early days at Haven. Back before she was the Inquisitor back when she was only the Herald of Andraste and he was the only other elf in an all too human camp. She could remember Solas’s words and the almost musical cadence with which he spoke during one of their first conversations, “if it caused you pain, come and find me. I will do what I can to help.”  
His hands were the first to touch her with any degree of kindness. Albeit a clinical touch, it was kinder than the rough treatment she had received at Cassandra’s hand. The adjustment to life with the Inquisition was hard. She missed the touch of her clan with a dull ache. Her edges felt blurry without the casual caress of loved ones, a pat on the shoulder, a child clambering onto her back, Deshanna’s weathered hands guiding hers as she taught her spells. A hundred little ways of making her feel real, but then all of a sudden, she was held apart not only as an elf and a mage, but also as the herald. She became some holy thing that could not be defiled by the touch of mere mortals. Solas had dared. He had dared to take her hand in his and run his fingers over the mark. She had felt bereft when he released her hand. The small point of contact lost. Solas was the only one who ever came close to understanding the anchor. If she could find him than maybe he could prevent it from killing her. A whole host of ifs and maybes bounced around her aching skull.

There were wolves in her dreams that night. The circled her. She couldn’t hide; the light from the anchor flared in the dark forest. A beacon leading the predators to her. It reflected off their eyes watching her from beneath the trees. She awoke with a start and suppressing a shudder. There had been too many eyes. 

Vir Dirthana hurt in so many ways. Here was the history her people ached for. Here was the evidence of just how much the elves had lost. The sadness was a palpable thing. She almost expected to find a despair demon haunting their steps, but it was only her own thoughts. Even with all her hurt and her questions, she wished Solas was there. She longed to share this with him.  
Dorian would scoff, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was near. So many things were like the early days. Her old companions were at her side again, and the anchor was once again a power she couldn’t understand. Her arm ached with a low nonstop vibration through her bones, a crackling hum which set the hair on her arms to stand up like in a thunderstorm.  
There were moments when she would catch Dorian and Varric watching her. Perhaps they were worried by the changes in the anchor that she sought to hide, or maybe they thought she was losing her mind. She found herself easily startled by shadows and distracted by voices at the edge of her hearing. Maybe sh was losing her mind and maybe that would be a relief. Maybe it was all in her head and this was not the beginning of more death and disaster for Thedas, but since when had her life been that simple?  
The sound of his name on the Viddasala’s lips struck her like a blow. For all her speculating, part of her had hoped she was just a lovesick fool who hoping to be reunited. It ached to have it confirmed. He had deceived them. He had deceived her. Not only that he served the being she had been taught to fear and revile all her life. Even if her beliefs and grown and changed with all she had seen and experienced, there was still a knee jerk reaction. It was just one more way she had failed as first to Clan Anyara. Perhaps a worse betrayal was that of her own heart. It soared at the thought that he was within reach.  
The anchor pulsed and she cried out in pain. He might be able to help her, or at the very least, she could see him one last time before the end. Varric was at her side a steadying presence.  
“We’re here lucky.”

The chase through the eluvians was frantic, her awareness seemed to shrink down to nothing more than her palm and her weak heart desperate need to save him. To save the man who had lied to her.  
Her companions could sense her desperation. She tried to ignore the pointed glances they exchanged.  
“I can’t stop. You have to know I don’t have much time left.” She said through gritted teeth.  
“We don’t know that.” Thom responded.  
The anchor flared painfully and Anyara raised it above her head and did her best to discharge the built-up energy. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her own scream roared I her ears. She staggered back still blinking green away for her eyes.  
“Don’t we?” she asked.  
“Lucky, we’ve gotten through worse shit than this.” Varric said as he took down an archer with Bianca.  
Anyara placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as she spoke, “luck has to run out sometime.”  
“Well it’s not running out today. Not if I have anything to say about it.”  
She touched his face briefly, locking eyes. They had shared so much over the years and she knew the dwarf well. For all his bravado, she could see the fear in his eyes. She wondered if he could see it in hers. 

The fight with the sarabaas left her reeling. Her left hand was next to useless. The pain threatened to drive her to her knees, but she had to keep going. They had to reach the Viddasala soon. The Qunari forces were weakened, and this would have to end soon one way or another.  
She passed through the eluvian and felt it snap closed behind her. The others hadn’t been able to follow. She was alone and weak from the pain radiating out from the anchor. Around her she could see the petrified figures of the remaining Qunari forces. Frozen in place, they had been unable to finish their attack. The power it must have taken to do this would have been immense.  
A familiar voice broke the quiet. Traitorous heart surging she rushed towards its source. She could hear the Viddasala and up ahead she could see movement. She watched as Solas turned her to stone. She struggled to keep calm. Her body moved of its own volition propelled forward by the wave she had felt building for weeks. Her nerves vibrated and screamed through her body. Everything was too much and she thought she might drown. Echoes of the dream wolves danced at the edges of her vision. She wondered if that was how prey felt when it knew it was trapped. He looked so regal. The armor he wore gleamed and he stood tall and proud and distant. Oh, creators how it hurt.  
He soothed the anchor with a word. She watched as his face changed. There was the Solas she knew. There was the man she had loved. The man she would always love if she was being honest with herself.  
“I am no one’s agent but my own.”  
“You’re Fen’Harel.” The words were hers, but she felt as if she heard them from a great distance.  
She knew it was true, no matter how much she wished to deny it. Here he stood. Her people’s great adversary and her foolish eyes thought they would never get their fill.  
“What is the old Dalish curse? May the dread wolf take you?” he said.  
“and so, he did.” She responded.  
“I did not. I would not lie with you under false pretense.”  
“You may not have shared my bed, but you damn well took my heart! I loved you. Did you really think I wouldn’t have understood? That I wouldn’t do anything for you?” She latched onto the anger she felt at his words. How dare he try to claim innocence.  
“Ir abelas, vhenan.” He replied with a voice full of sorrow.  
Anyara gave a small gasp. Vhenan. She hated how much her heart thrilled with the knowledge that he still loved her. Just as she still loved him. She was not alone in her heartache.  
“Let me help you.” She begged. If what he said was true, if there was a way to give the elves back everything, they had lost then she would happily give herself for that cause. She could put down the mask of the Inquisitor; she could be at his side.  
He turned away from her them. “I would not have you see what I will become.”  
She reached out to grab his arm, to pull him back to her. “I would not have you be alone. I know the burden of leadership. I know the loneliness.”  
“I can’t. I’m sorry.” His words echoed through her mind. Nothing would change here. He would leave her just like in Crestwood. She was more a fool than she had ever realized.  
The spell Solas had cast was weakening and then it cracked. The heat and electricity of the anchor shot through her body and she cried out desperately to him, “Ar lath vir suledin.”  
What she hoped was regret filled his noble features, “I wish that it could, Vhenan.” He stepped closer his hand grasping her marked hand. His lips pressed against her with a gentle pressure.  
If the anchor was going to kill her then so be it. At least she’d have this. He pulled back and the gulf between them threatened to overwhelm her.  
“I will never forget you.” He said as he turned and left Anyara for the third time.  
Anyara stumbled forward. She attempted to brace herself with her left arm and fell forward as it crumbled away beneath her.  
She fell forward and heard the eluvian snap shut. She was alone and her arm was gone. Solas was gone in more ways than one. The Solas she had fallen in love was lost to Fen’Harel much like Deshanna’s first had been lost to the Inquisitor.  
She didn’t know how long she’d lain there before them found her.  
Thom’s voice boomed in the quiet glen, “she’s here!”  
She could hear their running footsteps and part of her knew that she should call out. She should let them know she was alive, but she was so tired.  
Strong arms scooped her up. Varric cursed when he saw the remains of her arm, “What the fuck happened?”  
“Guess my luck ran out.” Her voice sounded high and too loud. She could see the wince of her companions, but was unable to keep the edge of hysteria from her voice. “Do you know what a keeper’s most important duty is? They have to protect the clan from the dread wolf.” She laughed the sound harsh and mirthless. For a moment she thought of Flemeth’s mad cackle, ‘and here I was practically begging him to join me in bed.”  
Dorian’s face blanched as he figured it out, “Solas is Fen’Harel.”  
Another mad cackle tore out of Anyara and she was grateful to feel the light touch of Dorian’s magic sending her off to dreamless sleep.


End file.
